All That Isn't Gold
by Silver Mist4
Summary: Faramir too has a story to tell. Though overshadowed by his brother and underestimated by everyone else, he is worthy of attention. This is his life in all its romance, tragedy, and angst. some slash.
1. Rant

THIS IS NOT A REAL CHAPTER

What you are about to read is a prologue which you don't need to read at all, but which I felt like posting for clarification's sake. The real first chapter will be up soon.

Faramir. Son of Denethor, Brother of Boromir, Steward of Gondor.

Faramir. Son of a Madman, Brother of a Dead Man, Steward of a Lost City.

Faramir. Son of an uncaring father, brother of a perfect son, steward of a city that didn't need him. Husband of a wife that had affairs with a Prince and was sister a brother with a temper.

Faramir. The man that lost everything to keep everyone happy. Everyone but himself.

These and more are the qualities of Faramir. This is the story of Faramir, from childhood to adulthood. How he grew up and died, little by little, in the arms of those who loved him, minds of those who didn't know him, and eyes of the rest who hated him.

An expansion of the story of my favorite character in Lord of the Rings.

… Now that I'm done with my dramatic rant, I'll actually explain what this is all about. In LotR, Faramir is never characterized very well. We don't know anything about his past except that his mom dies when he was little and his father loved Boromir more than him. Perfect angst.

Of course, this will include a lot more that pure angst. It will have (or rather I'll try to make it have) some comedy, a lot of romance (probably slash as well as het), drama (snorts… not that I can write it) and generally a well-balanced story. I plan this to be my personal epic, spanning many chapters and staying true to the book. The BOOK mind you, not the movie (although there will be rare times that I stray to the movie version).

Of course it is completely made up. As I said before, we don't know any of Faramir's anything. So I'll be taking full advantage of that fact.

And as much as I love and admire it, I do not own, and never will own, "Lord of the Rings". I don't care what anyone says or what legalities dictate… it belongs to the genius John Ronald Raoul Tolkien. No movie company, no son, no one but the author.

As many people know, I have no self-confidence. Flames make me cry (seriously) and reviews make me smile for hours. So please review if you want me to write the story! 'Cause if you don't I automatically assume that it's shit.

The rating is just to be safe and to cover several angsty chapters (that aren't even planned out yet).

Now that I completely bored you so that you don't want to read the story any more, I'm going to stop writing. Yep- you read through all that for nothing. I warned you, didn't I? The story will start next chapter, which will probably be up today, tomorrow at the latest. Hehehe… But guess what? No rants anymore! Only endnotes, if that. Isn't that exiting?

Hope you read and like and review the story!


	2. The Promise

Evenstar Elanor: Thank you so much for your review! I didn't really expect one for that "chapter"… I totally agree with you about Eowyn. I like her as a character, but I hate the way she uses Faramir. Hope you like this chapter- It's not really getting deep into anything yet, but I have to start somewhere, right?

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Faramir sighed looking out the window of Aragorn's study. He had a bad habit of zoning out during formalities and introductions and customary gossips, and this one he had no desire to listen to. So he gave an occasional nod or yes when seemingly fit, but couldn't keep his eyes off the White City. After 17 years of exile… he was back.

"Have you even heard a word I said?" exclaimed Aragorn exasperated.

Glancing up with a quick nod, Faramir eyed his King expressionlessly. "Yes, my liege," he lied.

"And what is your decision, pray tell?" The question came accompanied by raised eyebrows and a piercing glance, one that used to be so familiar and cherished.

"I will do whatever my liege desires of me," Faramir answered, quickly thinking up a reply that was sure to appease Aragorn.

The King breathed out a sigh of relief. "That is good," he said smiling, always the shrewd politician. "You will be wanted in my chambers after the evening meal, then."

That was his cue to leave. Curtly bowing he left the room, completely confused as to what he had just agreed to. But, the door behind him safely closed, he allowed himself a boyish grin in memory of a time many years ago when he was asked in for a much more… private reason. The smile faded as he remembered exactly how long ago he was wanted, in any sense of the word.

***Flashback***

"Boromir!" Faramir cried, clutching his blanket tight around his body in a feeble attempt to ward off the cold. "Boromir! Where are you? Boromir? Boromir!?"

A strong hand was placed none too gently on his shoulder, keeping him from advancing any further into the night. "Go back to bed, Faramir," commanded a deep voice.

The seven year old looked up into the gray bearded face of his captor. "Where's my brother?" he demanded tearfully. "Where is my brother, Erkenbrand?" he repeated softer, registering the annoyed gleam in his riding/fencing teacher's stare.

Erkenbrand sighed and relaxed his hold on the pupil. "He's with the lord Denethor, youngling. He'll be to bed in some hours."

"Oh," Faramir whispered, calming down once he knew his brother was safe and had not abandoned him. He smiled. "I'll go see him, then. Are they in the library?"

The hold on his shoulder tightened painfully as Erkenbrand's annoyance rose. "I told you to go back to bed, Faramir. Will you undermine that order?"

Bewildered, the boy shook his head no. "I just wanted to say goodnight," he whimpered.

"They are busy with strategics," Erkenbrand snarled. "Something that you would not understand. They do not want you there, interrupting them constantly. Now, to bed with you!" he said, emphasizing the command with a shove in the direction of the bedroom the two brothers shared. Stumbling slightly, Faramir rushed to his cot, tears pricking at his eyes. His brother didn't want to be with him? His father didn't…? Tears started to truly flow as his keen ears picked up a well-worn conversation between Erkenbrand and another of his tutor's, Dervorin.

"You shouldn't be so harsh with him," Dervorin reprimanded. "He's only a child, after all.

Erkenbrand sighed. "I know, I know. But there's something about him, a meekness… he acts like a girl, not as the son of the Steward of Gondor! He can't even hold a sword properly!"

"That's not true, sir. He learns. And he can ride like the best of your younglings, and shoot a bow to match an elf in skill."

"Riding a horse is easily learned, Dervorin. And archery is a cowardly way to fight," snapped the older man.

"Yet it is a most advantageous way," defended the other. "And he has a quick mind."

"That he uses for what? Reading! A lady's pastime!" Erkenbrand was by now furious. "A mind he could put to good use for memorizing techniques or analyzing strategies, he wastes on folklore! He is a weakling, Dervorin, admit it. He brings shame to the Steward's lineage; he is a disgrace to warriors!"

"Not so loud- he may hear you!" Dervorin whispered angrily.

"And if he does, so what? Sticks and stones… It may strengthen him up some."

The younger teacher sighed, seeing that there was no dealing with the short-tempered Rohirrimian. "It is my night for sentry duty. I take my leave of you. Good night."

"Until tomorrow, and pray that the boy grows up to be more like his brother!" cried Erkenbrand.

"Aye," came the muffled reply, followed by a long silence broken only by footsteps and nightly animals.

Faramir curled deep into his blankets, sobbing quietly against his pillow. That is the way Boromir found him an hour later, wearied by his father's lectures. Concern flooded his features as he rushed to his brother's side and gathered him up into a hug.

"What's wrong, Fari?" he murmured, using a nickname long out of use. "Shh… it's all right, it's all right, Fari. What is it? Did you have a nightmare?"

"Am I really that weak, Bor? Do you really not want me as your brother?" Faramir choked between sobs, forgetting that his sibling had not heard the previous conversation.

Boromir tensed up, then hugged his younger brother closer, nearly strangling him in a powerful yet warm bear hug. He could guess what this was about, the other boys had teased Faramir often enough for his gentle nature. For the innocence and overflowing kindness that made Faramir all the more precious to him. "Of course not, Fari! Of course not!" he exclaimed, rocking back and forth gently. "Who gave you that idea? I'll beat the life out of whoever said it, so that they'll be so bruised they won't be able to tell any more lies for weeks! Can you imagine the expression on their mother's face?" Faramir giggled lightly, the rustic attempt at humor less effective than his brother's comforting embrace. Boromir smiled too to see the sobbing had ceased. "I love you Fari, and I'll always love you, no matter what! You're my little brother! Of course I want you…" The soothing voice and arms of his brother soon lulled Faramir to sleep.

But Boromir's words did nothing to console the distress that filled him. The Masters were right, he was weak. He needed the protection of his older brother, and he cried like a girl. From that moment on, Faramir decided to become more like Boromir. More like the brother he loved and revered.

Maybe then, others would respect him too. Maybe then, his father would spend time with him, too…


	3. Dearest

Review replies will be at the end : ) They take up almost half of this… I do believe I'll make them shorter next chapter. Thank you all so so much!

Worries about this chapter: I think I rushed so much. I wanted to fit a lot of info into a short amount of space (yes, I will go into more detail with it later), so I'm worried that it's too sudden. Like the introduction of their mom- does that blend in or stick out? Should I slow down and expand a little more? This is going to be so non-condensed as is… Thank you all for your reviews!

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When Faramir awoke, he was still wrapped tightly in his brother's warm embrace. 'Too warm, in fact,' he thought, feeling stifled and sweaty. Trying not to wake the sleeping Boromir, he stretched his legs out past the end of the comforter and smiled as cool air hit his toes. Sun flooded the room past drawn-back curtains; a servant must have already been in. Faramir's smile melted into a look of deliberation as he tried to continue that thought and remember something that he shouldn't have forgotten in the first place. Sunny… Servant…

His concentration broke off as Boromir stirred beside him, awakened by a sudden breeze. "'Mornin'," he yawned, eyes still partly closed.

"'Morning!" Faramir replied brightly.

Boromir smiled back at his younger brother, the happy mood contagious. Still pretending to be grumpy however, he growled playfully, "What time is it? Today's Sunday, the one day I can sleep in, and here my pesky little brother is waking me up while the Sun's barely risen!"

Faramir giggled, understanding the jest behind the cold words. "But it's long past sunup," he protested, shoving his droopy-eyes brother back into the pillows and tickling his exposed ribs relentlessly.

Soon overpowered by the strength of the older boy, he found himself the one pinned against the mattress, victim to his brother's much more potent tickles. "Long past sunup, eh?" Boromir grinned. "And wasn't it you who was supposed to be training with Erkenbrand at break of day?" he laughed, not realizing the meaning of his words until Faramir gaped in horror.

"Oh no! I completely forgot!" he wailed, pushing his brother off him and jumping off the bed, rushing to get properly clothed.

"You didn't!" Boromir sighed, not understanding how his brother could oversleep and forget about his lesson with the most ill-tempered teacher in Gondor. "Well, then you might as well take your time and wash up right, Fari. You're dead now anyways, whether you come in a minute or an hour."

"You don't think he'll be that mad, do you?" Faramir asked pathetically, groaning at Boromir's pitying expression.

"Sorry, chum. I'll put flowers on your grave, though," his brother joked with a grin, in a feeble attempt to lighten the mood.

Faramir glanced up and rolled his eyes in annoyance; his brother's antics were only making him more late. He then plumped down and hurriedly shoved on his shoes, the wrong one on the painfully wrong foot. It was Boromir's turn to roll his eyes as he knelt by the boy who looked to be close to tears. "I'm so dead, Bors," he choked.

"Don't worry about it," Boromir exclaimed, gently tying up Faramir's boots for him. "I'll come with you and explain everything. They can't be mad once they know the reason, now can they?"

"Won't they? Will you really?" Faramir's tears turned to those of hope and gratitude as he flung his arms around his brother's neck and clung to him tightly.

Boromir's heart melted. "'Course I will," he said, rubbing his brother's back in slow circles. "After all, it is partly my fault you slept in."

Faramir tensed and pulled away sharply, leaving a wide-eyed Boromir sitting on the floor. "No," he said holding his chin high, "it's not your fault at all. I _am_ completely responsible. You can't always lift the blame from my shoulders, brother."

"No, Faramir, it isn't like that!" Boromir cried surprised.

"Stop it!" came the quivering command. "You've been suffering on my account for too long, Bors. You think I don't know about the whippings? Our father is a wise man, Boromir, he is a smart man." Faramir spoke suddenly with knowledge past his young years, and Boromir was awed by the man he saw in his brother. "It is useless to lie to him- he sees through us. Not for naught is he the Steward of Gondor. So, Boromir, I will go on my own to see him and face his wrath. Besides," he said quietly, "who will be there to shield me when you are gone?"

"Then you know?" Boromir whispered, a shocked expression on his face.

"Aye."

"Who told you?"

"I'm young, not stupid, brother. I figured it out on my own. You are twelve, soon to be a man. You go to Rohan to start training next month." Faramir bowed his fair head in sadness. "I'll miss you," he whispered, but before a reply could be spoken he fled the room. Closing the door firmly behind him, the younger son took a steadying breath. Shoulders squared and frail face set, he set out for the Great Hall where breakfast had ended and his trails would soon begin.

Meanwhile, Boromir had slowly risen from the floor and shook off his stupor. His brother had… changed, for a reason quite unknown to him. Faramir seemed to be mimicking him, even while it was quite obvious that he could not succeed; they were opposites, and it befuddled Boromir why his brother would want to change at all…

Unless Denethor had something to do with this. He would talk to his father at supper, no matter how Faramir protested- he was the elder, and through love and a promise would protect the younger boy. Even if it cost him a beating or, for that matter, his life. Some things in this world are sacred, some things should never be changed; to each these are different. Boromir snorted- he was becoming quite the poet.

The talk never came. Instead, the evening was spent (in hunger) comforting his brother, who resorted back to his own personality, his own self, after returning from lessons with a black eye and bloodied lip.

"What happened?" Boromir had cried in alarm when Faramir stumbled through the door. Throwing his practice sword into a corner, he once again gathered his brother into a gently, almost motherly, embrace.

"I can't do it, Boromir! I can't!" Faramir sobbed. "I was so scared, and he was so mad, and he hit me… I want mom back, Bors, I want mother…"

The words cut Boromir, and even though he knew he could never replace their mother, it hurt to know his efforts were failing. Yet he was determined to try as hard as he could to fill the hole in Faramir's bruised and bleeding heart. His little brother was their mother's son as much as he was their father's, and he knew that the loss combined with the sudden change of lifestyle was overwhelming. Still, he couldn't help but feel slightly irritated- it had been two years since her death, and Faramir had had plenty of time to mourn… pushing those brutal thoughts aside, Boromir gently pried the story from Faramir, learning that Erkenbrand was indeed furious he hadn't shown up on time and went completely over the edge upon finding him reading a poetry book. Their mother's book of poetry, that he tore up. Fearing that the enraged fighter would tear him to bits too, Faramir ran away only to be caught by Denethor and punished for his weakness.

By the time he finished his tale, Faramir had sobbed himself to exhaustion. Cradling him like a fragile doll, Boromir tucked him under the covers. "'Night," he whispered, kissing his brow lightly and smoothing back hair from his tear-streaked face. Then, determined, he stood up and walked towards the door. This had goon on long enough.

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Replies to Reviews:

To: Evenstar Elanor

Thanks! I'm glad that you like the way I depicted Boromir's and Faramir's relationship; there will be more of it in this chapter, and later as well. I had a hard time trying to write it, as so little is said in the text. As for his being misunderstood... that will only get worse! I have so much in store for our lovable Fari... *cackles and rubs hands together* But really, seeing the way Denethor treats him when he's a grown man, it's not that hard to believe he went through hell as a child. And I so agree with you about Eowyn, how she changed loves in a heartbeat... it annoys me too! I'll have such fun playing around with her character when we get to it- if you have any ideas, I'd love to hear them! And if I use anything, I'll give you due credit.

Thanks so much for sticking with the story! I was worried that you would just review for one chapter and then forget about it... ('cause that's what I sometimes do... *slaps herself*) I'm so glad I was wrong! Thank you so so much!

To: Raksha The Demon

Thanks for the luck (I'm going to need so much of it...) and I hope I don't disappoint. I'm sorry you disagree with the slash pairings, but I really do think that Faramir had something going on with Aragorn; I don't think it was love, more like soldier's lust, if you know what I mean. And I'm glad that you are criticizing the story- it shows that you actually process what you read, and care enough to want the story to be good. There's a big difference between criticism and flames, and I'm smart enough to understand that.

About his being the Steward of the City: I know. It is not ignorance that made me write what I did, it is for the purpose of the plot. Think about it- when the King returned, the average man probably decided that the Steward was no longer needed, and came to scorn the position as one of ornament. However, they will realize that they were wrong later on... I'm not going to give any more away though. Thank you for the input though. I'm sure I will make so many mistakes throughout the course of writing the piece, and I'd be so grateful to you if you pointed them out like you did here.

Thanks!

To: KT

I hope that it will be as exiting as you want it to be! I'll try my best. But don't just be content to read what I wrote! You must have some ideas as to what happens as well, and I'd be so glad to hear them and, if you want/allow me to, use them. Isn't Fari the cutest name?... I can just imagine the two of them when they were little *giggles*. So please, if you have any events/anything you want to see in the story, review them in! I'll give you credit, of course. 'Cause I was also sitting for the longest time thinking, "Why isn't anyone writing Fari's story?" and then I decided, "Well if no one will, I guess I'll try..." and it would be great to put together something that's from a whole bunch of people, you know? OK, that sentence confused me. And thanks so much for the support! But also, say if you think something's messed up, kay? It will make the story that much better. Thanks so much!

To: the proud canadian

I'm so glad you like the story! As you said in your profile, it makes writers happy to get reviews :) And I plan to update at least every week, but I might do more if the fickle thing called time allows it… but you know, school and exams and all that missense. Especially the next few weeks- APs and Semi-formal and all that jazz. Thanks again for the review!

To: Susan

Thanks, I'm glad you like it so far! Is that interesting in a good way, or in an "that's so impossible, it would never actually happen" way? Hope it's the prior : ). And how it goes… I assume you know the ending, and "the end justifies the means", right? So there probably won't be too many big shockers in the plot. But I hope that doesn't make it any less interesting to read! I'll update as often as I can, probably somewhere around once a week… That sound reasonable? I know I get annoyed when people don't update stories regularly, and I hope I won't fall into that category…

To: Catmint

Yeah, Fari does get it bad, doesn't he? But that's partly why I love him- he has the strength to go through it all and never give up. You caught me on the Rohirrimian! I spent half an hour trying to decide what word to use there, because Rohhirim is a noun and I needed an adjective, and Rohirric is the language of the Rohirrim, not the culture/ancestry (plus "of Rohirric descent" breaks up the phrase- it's too long -_-U). So I was completely stumped. Do you know any adjectives that stem from "Rohirrim"? 'Cause I was (still am, in fact) completely lost. And I'll try to update as soon/often as possible!

To: Ruunya

I'm glad you liked it! I'm going to try so hard to give the story "justice", but if I don't please tell me and I'll try to change it. After all, I'm hardly of a high enough caliber to truly… impact, I guess, Tolkien's work. But I'm certainly going to try my best to continue with the story and make it as fulfilling as possible. Thank you so much for the support- I need it. And about my writing style- you're the first person to tell me that! You have no idea how much I grinned upon reading that- charm! That's one of my favorite words. *blush*. So no worries, as long as readers want to read, I will not stop writing the story of Faramir (until it ends naturally). Thanks again!


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